


A Place to Rest

by Demial



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9458738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demial/pseuds/Demial
Summary: I needed to write this short, comforting piece in between writing other drabbles.





	1. Chapter 1

Your day had been terrible. You didn't know if it was because something happened to sour your mood, or that you had got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. You were hauling a large pillow down the hallway of the watchpoint in the direction of one of your closest friends. The pillow was worn and lumpy, but it was your favourite colour and had a familiar and comforting smell. You knew you resembled a child clutching their favourite blankie, but you continued on, anyway.

Zenyatta looked up from his meditation when you approached. His orbs returned to their usual position. They spun rapidly once and then slowed. His expression didn't change, of course, but you assumed he wasn't thinking badly of your disheveled appearance and sad facial expression. He just never said anything to indicate that he judged you in that way.

"Another bad day?" he asked.

"Yes," was all you replied.

"I see."

He remained still. You placed the pillow carefully against his lap and fluffed it. You laid down on it, with your upper body on the pillow and your legs resting on the ground. You took a breath, inhaling the scent of the pillow and Zenyatta's metal body. There was a faint hint of oil and incense.

Once he believed you were situated, Zenyatta resumed his meditation. He leaned forward, placing his hands palms-up on his knees. He head bowed. His orbs spiraled down to spin lazily around his shoulders. They each took turns producing different bell-like sounds, much like a wind-chime. You wondered if a similar sound could be heard right now back at the monastery where he was from. Other than that thought, you let your mind blank and allowed the sound of the chimes relax your body.

Genji joined the two of you for a while and then left. He did not disturb you, save for greeting his master. He had seen you like this a few times before. He was secretly proud that his master could help other members of Overwatch as he had been helped, even if only for a little here and there.

>>>

You opened your eyes to find Zenyatta staring down at you, his orbs in their usual position again. You felt groggy.

"You fell asleep. Am I that comfortable?" he asked, in a playful tone.

"Yes," you replied, humouring him. He knew it was actually the pillow, but your tiny exchange was actually about how his very presence was a comfort to you. He hummed low and quiet.

"I am glad."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> got no where else to plunk this, so here it is: massage, courtesy of Zenyatta

You flopped down in front of your partner, Zenyatta, and demanded his attention.

“Can you touch me? I need some love.”

“Of course. Where?”

“All over. I’m so achy.”

Zenyatta’s extra arms sprung from his back, glowing yellow and warm in comparison to his material body. You smiled, stretching out to welcome their attention.

Your stress was defeated easily, all your knots were eliminated. Six hands assaulted your body with gentle care and love. You gave yourself up, each arm, each leg; your back and feet. All were rubbed and kneaded at once. Zenyatta gently pulled his fingers up your arms and kneaded your calves. Fists twisted into the bottom of your feet.

All the hands-on contact was giving you the kind of comfort only a loved one can provide. You were at peace, having one of your basic needs fulfilled. All was well with you at this very moment.  
Zenyatta couldn’t be happier seeing you so relaxed. One of the reasons he was with you, was that it brought him the most joy to see you happy, out of all people he’s met on his travels.

He hit a particularly sore spot between your shoulder blades, one that needed to be pressed hard, and you flat out moaned, ending it in a long hum.

“Right there. Yeah…don’t stop.”

Your words and how you said them piqued Zenyatta’s interest. It reminded him of how you reacted when you were intimate, with his flexible and dexterous fingers penetrating and stroking all the right spots. Maybe he was learning. Maybe he could anticipate your needs better.

He reached out one of his metal hands and touched your inner thigh. Then it slid inward. You stopped it.

“No. Not right now.”

All of his hands ceased their movements and backed off to hover over your skin. Zenyatta’s mechanical hands folded in front of him.

“Very well. What would you prefer?”

You smiled.

“Hold me!” you exclaimed, stretching again, which took more effort than usual. This time towards the monk.

You thought his six extra arms would disappear. But they gathered you up–your current-jelly-like state made it easy–and brought you into your partner’s lap. The arms encircled your body, like a translucent nest, hugging you on all sides. Warm. They rocked you, back and forth, and forth. Zenyatta hummed, content to have you under his protection. It was enough to put you to sleep.

“Thank you, Baby,” you mumbled.

He may not always know the right thing to do, but Zenyatta was still making you happy.


End file.
